


Let's Go Home

by TheDoomGuy



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Mild Language, Slow Build, first person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoomGuy/pseuds/TheDoomGuy
Summary: Ever since I came here, I never heard the end of Claudette’s made-up rules:1) Never get off the main footpath.2) Do not approach killers.3) Do not talk to killers.Every single one of us had to follow them, regardless of whether we actually wanted to. And being a responsible fellow comrade, I did what had to be done: I broke every single rule.
Relationships: Frank Morrison/Original Female Character(s), Frank Morrison/Reader, Frank Morrison/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	1. Are you scared of me, Freckles?

**Author's Note:**

> All notes will always be at the end of the chapter!

There is no exact starting point or an abrupt ending to this story. It is long and convoluted. I still do not know if it is truly finished. But it made me the person I am today. I won’t expect you to believe every single word I say. I still have a hard time believing it myself. At times this story will seem too bizarre, extremely questionable things are going to happen, yet I urge you to bear with me. It will all make sense… hopefully.

Without any further ado, this is a story of how a series of unfortunate events changed my life forever.

  
***  
  
  


Ever since I came here, I never heard the end of Claudette’s made-up rules:

  1. Never get off the main footpath.
  2. Do not approach killers.
  3. Do not talk to killers.



Every single one of us _had_ to follow them, regardless of whether we actually wanted to. And being a responsible fellow comrade, I did what had to be done: I broke every single rule.

After exaggeratedly waving at my friends and shouting “I’ll see you in the next one!”, I set out onto yet another dangerous journey. The main footpath was teeming with infamous graffiti. The enormous boulders and the abnormally huge pine trees were all claimed by the “Mashtyx”. Some of the written graffiti were simple tags and black-and-white throw-ups, but some were actual complete pieces. They were the ones to steal my heart. The array of colour schemes and various shapes that Nea always succeeded in implementing into her pieces were extremely impressive and astonishing (even though I’ll never tell her that, ‘fraid that it will boost her already humongous ego). 

Everytime I would thoroughly examine the masterpiece, I would wonder if it was something I would have enjoyed in my previous life… before I came here. See, all of my friends, that were also unfortunate enough to end up in this hell, are blessed with the ability to recall trivial stuff from their past lives like their names, their hobbies and jobs, their parents and friends. There are even others, like Dwight, who remember extremely specific details of their everyday routines. This bastard remembers getting C- on his every calculus test and getting away with it. And there is me, blessed with a complete amnesia: no name, no identity... nothing (well, I mean I have a nickname: my hell friends call me “Cracker”, because of my ability to crack extremely bad jokes, but more on that later).

Musing about irrelevant topics I didn’t notice how the wide footpath started to gradually narrow down, which meant that I was getting closer to my safehouse. It was obvious from the quantity of tags and graffiti that Nea was scared to go any further down the suspiciously small path that was mostly dominated by flora; she didn’t dare to break rule #1. 

_Everyone has their limits, I guess._

Soon after I vanished behind the thick vegetation that covered the slightly trodden path, tiny droplets of water obliterated my skin. Due to the force of habit, I stuck my hand out to test whether it was rain or my mind playing tricks on me. After I concluded that it was actual rain, I quickly put on the ebony hood over my ginger hair and sighed out of frustration. 

I walked aimlessly in the dark woods for a while and soon an unsettling tension started to form in my stomach. Successfully tricking myself into thinking that I got lost, I started mentally preparing for the worst outcome of this ridiculous journey. I ran around haphazardly for another minute, adrenaline pumping through my veins, when I finally saw the familiar hideously looking shrub. A wave of relief surged over my body and I placed my hand over my racing heart; I knew exactly where I was. Assertively taking a sharp turn around the tree, the hideout finally came into view. 

Approaching the ramshackle hut that was standing alone in the middle of the clearing, my gaze swiftly shifted towards the poarch on the wooden shack. To my surprise, it was covered with a very thick layer of dry oak leaves. 

_Odd_ . I thought to myself. _I got rid of all of the leaves last time - just before the trial._

I huffed bitterly, understanding that cleaning the area again or changing anything in general was an utter waste of time. As somebody once said: “Insanity is doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again expecting shit to change”.

I picked up my pace when I understood that the rain wasn’t going to merely die down, on the contrary, it was getting heavier and heavier. The cold droplets ignited a burning sensation every time they came in contact with my bare skin. The raging gusts of wind were no better, mercilessly cutting on my shaking body. 

When I finally arrived at my destination, I quickly took my favourite spot: the right side of the top stair that was, thankfully, covered by the wooden roof. Why was it my favorite, you would ask? The answer is pretty simple: this was the only spot where the stench of the decomposing/rotting wood mixed with the fetid smell of moss wasn’t noticeable. Plus, it shielded me from the ruthless wind. I leaned my shoulder onto the railing and gingerly closed my eyes. “I am sorry, Claudette” I murmured. I was absolutely aware of the fact that I was breaking rule #1, yet I could care less; staying here was better than enduring another minute at the campsite. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all of my friends, yet they had a tendency to get under my skin.

Whilst I was dwelling on those silly and rather unamusing thoughts, I didn’t notice how a very familiar persona had already made their way past me up the stairs and claimed their spot. The sound of creaking wood under pressure dragged me out of my world back into reality. I quickly looked up to see how the hooded figure leaned over the wet from rain railing and commenced their daily routine, which consisted of staring into the never ending void. He was dressed in his usual garments: a black leather jacket and a pair of camo jeans, which were covered with a layer of old, dried out dirt. The same hood and the same mask were also present and functioning, working together to cover his face. Not once I wondered how his face looked (if it was a “he”, for all I know it can be a very tall skinny female with no boobs). Is it just as distorted as hillbilly's face? Does he even have one? God knows…

This guy did not belong to the “campsite group”. Actually, when I first met him, right at this spot, I took him for a newcomer; I thought of him as a male version of Nea - edgy teen that was seeking some alone time and accidently discovered this very distant shelter. However, soon I learned that he suspiciously resembles a killer that my friends tended to briefly mention in their discussions, conversions, and debates based around tormentors that they had to come across in the trials. When the realization first struck me, I remember being on the verge of vomiting. The building up tension inside of me was unbearable to endure. I recall shifting about in my seat, and rubbing my chest, and stroking the back of my neck, and finally placing both hands on my knees and beginning to tap tapping with my slender fingers against the kneecaps. Soon I was tapping with one of my feet as well. My brain could not comprehend what great danger I have put myself into just by simply existing next to that psychopath.

_If I die in a trial, I just go back to the campsite and then it’s a rinse-and-repeat-kind-of cycle. But what happens if I die here? On the campsite grounds? Do I...stop existing?_

Those kinds of thoughts swirled up in my mind and caused other thoughts to emerge. Those were all to do with my past life: home (if I had one), and whether the people (again, if I had them) I left behind are missing me at this very moment. Even days after my ground-breaking realization, I still felt the same unsettling feeling in my heart. I even started considering never visiting the hut again and forgetting about this absurd incident forever.

You know, paradox is such a bitch, though: the more one tells themselves to avoid a certain individual/area/behaviour, the more they find themselves desiring it. And this is how the war between me and myself had officially begun. The pessimistic side was convinced that my nameless companion will lure me into a trap, gruesomely torture, then finally kill me and keep my head as a trophy. The optimistic side, however, called the pessimistic me an absolute idiot and was one hundred percent confident that he did not pose any threat. It reasoned such a radical conclusion by explaining that even after so many encounters he didn’t attempt to hurt me. As a matter of fact, the only thing he did was stand next to me and completely ignore my presence. 

At the end of the Hundred Years' War, a lot of my brain cells were dead and more were missing in action, yet one side managed to claim their sweet victory. Standing on the top of the interminable pile of corpses was the optimistic side, cockily smiling at what it had done to my mental stability. 

And so I never stopped coming to my secret hideout. And he was always there to give me a company. Together we stared into the distance without uttering a single word until one of us had to go (for whatever reason, we don’t really have plans or a life in his God forsaken place) or the Entity had to summon us for another trial. We didn’t really communicate, except for this one time. I remember how once when I was lighting up another cigarette, I caught him staring at me. At first, I didn’t understand what was his problem so I merely stared back. However, as seconds passed, I slowly understood that I had never offered him a smoke. I quickly propped myself up and whilst mumbling “where are my manners” under my breath, I outstretched the pack towards him. He just blankly glared at me, then tilted his head towards my extended arm and shook his head softly. 

Soon I started perceiving our “secret meet-ups” as a way to escape my horrible daily reality in which I had to constantly endure fear and pain. It was a peaceful place where I could replenish my energy and stabilize my mental state of mind. It felt as if he was there to guide me through this process, despite the fact that physically he was absolutely neglecting my existence.

(And now you might be wondering whether I was breaking rule #2, and I will tell you that: yes, _oh hell yeah_ I was absolutely fucking destroying it).

For a while, nothing significant happened during our get togethers. Yet this is not a story about two idiots glaring at each other and silently wallowing in self pity. Something had to happen. And so one day, one of us was brave enough to break rule number #3. At this moment, you might think that I am the main hero of this ridiculous story, because, at the end of the day, I am the one narrating it. Nevertheless, one can argue that _he_ is the true hero, because he was the one to break the most important rule. That day, he was the one to break rule #3; he was the one to break the silence.

“You know, you shouldn’t venture far from your campsite. What will you do if the next killer you meet is not as friendly as I am, hm?” A low voice reverberated through the air. 

My head shot up and any traces of happiness and tranquility vanished from my face. Looking at him with disbelief in my eyes, I felt how blood drained from my face. I just couldn’t believe that he was able to speak AND understand me all along. Suddenly, my brain played a heartless trick on me: I remembered all those times when he was forced to listen to all of my self-pitying monologues (about how I despise this place and how I can’t remember anything for shit). Replaying those vivid memories in my head like a broken record, my face self-combusted from pure embarrassment. 

While my brain was doing its best at processing all the information that was thrown at it, the male tilted his head ever-so-slightly into my direction, indicating that he was still waiting for my response. He spent an eternity gaping at me before I was finally able to choke out: 

“I g-guess I shouldn’t”. I cringed at my own voice that sounded too high-pitch and too pathetic for my own liking. I sounded so lost and scared. On the other hand, my tormentor maintained his cool and continued vaporizing me with his patronizing glare. 

“What’s your name, mate?” he finally scoffed, while shaking his head at me in a playful manner. 

“I genuinely can’t remember,” I whispered. As soon as those words left my mouth, I mentally slapped my stupid face and clenched my hands to white knuckles out of sheer exasperation.

_Why do you have to have a big mouth, man?_

The guy hummed in acknowledgment and I could see how my words succeed in disturbing him. He was leaning over the wooden railing very stiffly, and it was obvious that a little tension started building up in his body. He started rubbing the nape of his neck, and shifting his gaze from one object to another, and finally tapping his foot. You don't have to be a genius to understand that he was having an internal monologue about whether to be or not to be. 

“Come with me,” he eventually announced and, with a soft sigh, reluctantly made his way down the stairs that would sickly creak under his weight. 

He was about to vanish behind the corner of the shack when he turned around to check if I was following him.

“You coming?” He questioned me. From the tone of his voice I could tell that he was starting to get impatient. 

I rapidly stood up, while looking down onto the floor. I was trying to think of anything, ANYTHING that would bail me out of this sticky situation, regardless of how stupid it may sound. Suddenly, I remembered about the damn rain that I got caught in and I barely wailed out an answer:

“I-I don’t think I-I am. The r-rain is too strong”. 

I heard how the guy let out a low growl, indicating that was becoming more and more annoyed. Surprisingly, he still responded in a more calm tone:

“Well, it stopped raining a while ago, mate”.

My head shot up. My eyebrows knitted themselves into a deeper frown than usual, as I swiftly scanned my surroundings. He wasn’t lying - there was no sight of the heavy rain that I got caught in nor of the merciless wind that made the experience even worse. I can’t say that the sky was cloud-free (fun fact: the sun never shines in this place), but it was of a lighter shade of gray. I looked back at the male in front of me with a glint of utter confusion in my jade pools. He was already leaning on the wooden wall with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his fingers on his arms in anticipation. My obvious hesitation didn't go unnoticed under his sharp eyes and, letting out a menacing grunt, he decided that he wanted to have a little fun with it. 

“Are you just scared of me, Freckles?” he said, his voice soaked with swagger. He paused for a split second and then continued, in a more genuine and calming tone: "If that's the case, I promise I won't hurt you... you have my word".

My face lit up and I felt how blood quickly flooded my blushing cheeks. Even though I was proud of myself for being capable of resisting the unbearable urge to track my freckles on my face, I still hated the fact that my peculiar behaviour made him chuckle at me. You could instantly see how my awkward demeanour boosted his self confidence: he stopped leaning onto the wall and stood up straight, showing off his good posture as well as his height. Despite the fact that I couldn’t physically see his face, I KNEW that he was wildly grinning at himself, proud of what he had done to me. 

Instead of coming up with a witty response, I made my way down the stairs, still feeling my face burn. He merely hummed in acknowledgment and we vanished behind the safehouse. 

Why did I follow him you would ask? Because that was the only logical option. He would have eventually caught up with me if I tried running away; back at the campsite, Ash would always moan about his “supernatural speed that fucks everybody in the ass” . And, you know, I think anybody would have obeyed a person with a humongous hunting knife sticking out of their back pocket. 

  
  


***

  
  


“What are you doing?” I asked quietly in my trembling voice. I looked around again and gave our surroundings another scan: we were standing in the middle of another clearing, which was approximately 15 minutes away from the hut… plus minus 2 minutes. What actually kept me on my toes was the fact that there was one single little tree in the middle of this suspiciously deforested area. It evidently looked different from the rest of the coniferous trees that surrounded the clearing and I couldn’t help myself but to questionably squint when my nameless friend started plucking its leaves. 

“This is the Ginkgo Biloba tree,” he said quickly. “Those leaves will help with your memory loss”.

He then outstretched his hand towards me, which was filled with a good dozen of those magic leaves. Eyes wide in disbelief, I looked from his extended arm to his masked face and back again. To say that I was shocked by his benevolent act was an absolute understatement.

“Why are you helping me?” I muttered and dubiously squinted at him again. Paranoiac thoughts started creeping out of the dark allies of my mind. _Is he trying to poison me? What’s his gain out of this all? Should I still accept them?_

He gave me a very exaggerated shrug and looked away. Long seconds passed when he eventually realized that I was not accepting his “present”. Gifting me with an extremely exasperated growl, he shook his extended hand in annoyance, implying that denial wasn’t a good option. Without any further hesitation, I snatched those damn leaves out of his hand and stored them away into my jacket pocket. I,too, then looked away; I couldn't dare to look up at him. The single thought of giving him more attitude sent shivers down my spine. 

“That’s better,” he said, hiding his hands away into his pockets. “Make tea out of them and drink a cup every single time before a trial. It should help…” After, he reluctantly turned around and muttered: “...I would know better”. 

It barely came as a whisper and, most likely, was meant for his own ears, so he looked quite shocked when I asked him:

“What do you mean?”

As soon as I said that, sinister whispers of the Entity overwhelmed the scene, causing me to shiver involuntarily. I quickly looked down, expecting to see a thick fog already swirling over my petite legs. To my surprise, there was no mist in sight, however, glancing over to the male friend, I quickly realized what it was his turn; the Entity was summoning him.

“Do you remember your way back?” He questioned, taking a big step towards me. The fog was covering his body at an incredible speed, in seconds managing to reach his upper neck.

“Yes, yes I do” I said, awkwardly putting one of my hands onto my other arm. “A-and thank you”, I murmured.

Despite the mist swarming over most of his face, I was 99% sure that he gave a slight nod. With that, the mist engulfed his whole body and suddenly started to quickly swirl around like a tornado. Instinctively, I covered my face to avoid the devastating impact of sand and dirt that were picked up by the strong wind. When the whispers abruptly ceased, I lowered my covering hand and gingerly opened my eyes. He was already gone.

I reached into my pocket to ensure that the leaves were still there before sprinting back into the dark woods.

_Okay, now it’s time to ask Claudette the fuck is a Ginger Ebola tree._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand scene! I hope you enjoyed my writing:) I didn’t want to make Frank out of character and this is exactly how I perceive him: tries to be tough on the outside, but is an actual sweet cinnamon roll on the inside.  
> Also, a couple of things:  
> 1) I am Russian, so English is my second language; I am still learning and improving. This is why I ask you to comment and tell me how I can improve on creative writing, cuz I feel like my English class is giving me a hard time :/  
> 2) This is my first long fanfic ever.  
> 3) https://youtu.be/XYUErkvORWA for staring into the interminable void… Owo.


	2. On Your Marks

“You are all alone,” somebody's menacing voice echoed in the distance. Turning around I saw how a familiar figure emerged from the dark shadows of the building. Fidgeting with his hunting knife, he shuffled towards me, the sound gravel underfoot burning my eardrums to the core. Instinctively, I took a step back. Another. And another. Making those agonizingly slow steps, I rotated myself around the crate box, away from the tormentor. As I examined the distance between us - that looked like an interminable void in my eyes - a sense of security surged over my body. The novel feeling made me prone to all the anxiety and horror that was inflicted on me during this trial… and I felt like giving attitude. 

“Thanks for clarifying that, cap. Surely I wouldn’t have figured it out by now,” I snapped bitterly. At first, he looked startled due to my unexpected response, and abruptly stopped running his fingers over the blade of the knife. A wide grin grew across my face, mischief gleaning in my eyes. Yet my triumph was short-lived as the male merely shrugged it off and let out a low chuckle.

“You do have balls, I’ll give you that,” he said and “unintentionally” placed his knife at a better angle for me to see it. The sight of the bloody blade made me gulp thickly and silently regret my earlier behaviour. 

He then slowly paced towards me, steadily closing up the distance between us that I attempted to create. The same sound of rustling gravel reverberated through the air and caused another dose of adrenaline to surge over my body. While I was in this fight-or-flight state, I figured that I would rather deal with my problem head-on then try to run away and jeopardize the situation even further. Even when he was literally hovering over me, melting me with his stern gaze, I did not flinch despite my heart pounding like a mallet against my ribcage. In fact, he was so close to me that I was able to hear his steady breath against his mask and feel the warmth of his body. The sensation sent pleasant shivers down my spine, yet as soon as it happened I frowned at such an odd reaction.

_ What the fuck, man? Keep it together. _

“Tell you what. What say we make it a race to the exit gates, hm?” he quietly murmured, as if afraid that somebody was eavesdropping on our conversation, and pulled away from me. An instant chill replaced the heat of his body and caused me to feel, in a way, naked. My head didn’t move from it’s angle, but my eyes shifted upwards to give him the look. 

“And the winner gets…” I started but was quickly cut off by a very enthusiastic male. 

“Your cigs,” he beamed and zealously nodded towards the pocket of my jacket that contained my marlboro pack. His unexpected answer resulted in me twisting my face into an expression of sheer confusion with a sliver of annoyance. Was he really that self-confidant to take my name off the list that quick? 

_ Screw that fucker, I still stand a chance against him.  _

“Yeah, but what if I happened to be the winner?” I uttered, raising my right brow as I crossed my hands on my chest in anticipation. The male stiffened up for a second as if musing on something before hiding away his hands into his jacket and shifting his body weight onto his left foot. 

“What do you want?” his husky voice came through. 

I brought my hand towards my chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. I didn’t really need anything from him. Surely I could have asked him to spare me for the next couple of trials, but such an intelligent thought didn’t cross my mind at that moment. At that moment, however, my eyes were focused on something wild, something that could have made me squeal and jump from excitement if he wasn’t looking at me. 

“I want your walkman,” I said and pointed at the PMP that was clipped onto his camo jeans. My face broke into a wide grin as I thought of all the jealous stares and remarks I would get at the campsite if I were to win such a precious trophy. I could already hear Kate begging me to share it with her. 

“My Walkie?!” he exclaimed, covering it with both on his hands in a protective manner, and then continued in a cracked voice, “are you crazy?”. In fact, his shriek was so loud that it caused the pair of crows witnessing the scene to scatter into different directions. I, on the other hand, set my jaws firm and knitted my eyebrows together; the sudden change of moods definitely set me on edge. I guess my calm demeanor made him swallow his objections; he lowered his stiff shoulders and unlaced his fingers, revealing the glorious walkman, which was all shabby from age and covered in goofy stickers. Bringing his hand towards his mouth, he cleared his throat. 

“So, is this a deal?”

The guy then outstretched his bandaged hand towards me. I glanced at his hand and then up again and a grip of worry took over my heart. I tucked my hand away into my jacket and felt how smooth the surface of the pack felt beneath my fingers. The sensation was soothing, yet my knees trembled a bit at the thought of losing my cigs forever considering how bad my nicotine addiction was. However, when I drew my attention back to the walkman, my eyes shone with enthusiasm and I held my body upright in anticipation.

“Deal,” I said, my voice confident, and gently placed my hand into his, completely unaware of what I was getting myself into. And this is how my fate was sealed with a single handshake. The rest is history. The moment he offered me a head start I knew it was over before it started. How many fucking times Meg tried outrunning him. How many times Ash crawled out of the trials shouting and screaming that the guy is actually Flash in disguise. I guess nothing teaches me. Long story short: I lost. So badly. The moment I said “go”, the guy burst forward in a grey blur, leaving dust clouds behind him for me to choke on. I didn’t bother even trying; I casually made my way towards the gates by following the footprints that were left by a wild idiot. Even from far away I was able to see him clearly: he was already opening the gates, the wailing siren echoing in the distance. In a normal trial, this sound would have caused an additional dose of adrenaline to surge over my veins and make me sprint twice as fast towards the exit, away from potential threat. However, knowing what was waiting for me at the gates, the ear-piercing noise just made me jump out of my skin every time it resonated across the area. 

When I finally arrived at my destination, he made some dumb remark about my lightning speed, which earned an eye roll and an annoyed huff from me. Yet a deal was a deal. I reached into my pocket and took out his price out of it. I gave it one last glimpse, my eyes full of sorrow and pain, and said my goodbyes before tossing it to its new owner. His reactions proved to be pretty impressive as he easily caught the pack mid air and wrapped his hand around it protectively. Opening it up, he took a very deep breath, as if it was a new book, and exhaled loudly through his mouth.

“This smells really good,” he stated as if I already didn’t know that. I knew he was putting on this spectacle just to annoy me, so I simply shrugged it off and made my way towards my freedom. 

I felt a firm grip yank me back with a great force. The wind had been knocked from my lungs from the sudden violence, and I gasped, trying to gain it back. Time seemed to freeze; I watched with wide eyes how my own legs flew up in the air and I crushed to the ground, hitting the back of my head on the brick wall. 

_ I have a weird feeling of deja vu.  _

“Heey, not so fast,” the attacker said in a rather playful tone as he squatted down between my outstretched legs.

“What do you want from me?” I growled through gritted teeth and squinted at the ground. It was bad enough that I lost my cigs earlier, now I had to deal with a throbbing head and a cocky idiot, which only added fuel to the fire. I was fucking furious. 

“Did it help? I mean the tea? You remembered anything?” a very soft voice asked me. 

I tilted my head up and nearly expected to see another person as such a timid and gentle voice didn’t match the raspy and blunt one that my friend fancied using. Except it was still him, however, his body language changed radically: he was tugging on the sleeve of his jacket and looking away from me, unable to meet my eyes. He looked like a preschooler, who was too shy to ask his crush to play with him. The anger that was boiling in my heart and mind suddenly vanished and was replaced by sympathy. My lips formed a neutral smile and I sighed while trying to formulate a coherent response.

* * *

  
  


I felt how a foreign hand reach down my jacket pocket and snatch the containing with a great force. A silent “What the…?” escaped my lips before I lost my balance and landed right onto my ass. It took me a second to analyze what the fuck just happened as I dumbfoundedly stared at the dirt beneath me. While I was slowly picking myself up from the cold ground, the gears inside my head finally started to turn and I came to the realization that there were only two people in this world that could have knocked me down that easily: Ash and David. Anger took over my emotions and I was about to open my mouth to lash out on either of them and tell them not to fucking scare me like that anymore. However, as soon as I made eye contact with the attacker, I felt how my mouth go dry. 

“That’s the leaves of the ginkgo biloba tree! It  can slow and prevent memory problems, or memory loss associated with mild cognitive impairment or Alzheimer's disease!” Claudette exclaimed and, clutching tighter onto leaves  in excitement, bounced up and down in her seat. Witnessing the scene in front of me in pure horror, I found myself at loss for words. Was I scared more of the brutal strength such a petite girl possessed or of the upcoming question? Hm…

“Where... Where did you find those?” she said, as if reading my mind, and adjusted her black glasses to get a better view of the stolen specimen. 

A swarm of butterflies invaded my stomach and I felt slightly nauseous. What was I supposed to tell her? _ “Oh, don’t mind me, the Smiley-Guy-Killer was kind enough to show me the location of that exact tree”?!.  _ I silently cursed myself for not coming up with a decent lie on the way back here.

“Well, um, I found it not far from the main foottrack and as soon as I saw it, I remembered that… yeah… I remembered that those leaves can help a person with memory loss”. I finally said, my voice trembling. At this moment, I could have sworn that my heart was in my mouth.

_ Well done. Very convincing. _

“I don’t know if this will help with your case,” she said, completely ignoring the first half of what I said, “but we can try!”. 

Our eyes finally locked for a split second and I observed how a large smile formed on her lips. I would admit that her happiness was a bit contagious and I found myself plastering a soft, yet genuine smile onto my face. To be honest, I haven’t seen her that happy since the incident involving a guilty Dwight and a heart-broken Claudette. 

“I could have made an extract out of these, if I had a conical flask. So I guess I will make tea instead,” she muttered while putting the rusty kettle over the camping fire.

Even though we were stranded in this realm with no hope for a brighter future, we still had to do human things like eat and sleep. And whoever was in charge of this place knew about that in advance and supplied us with a bunch of utilities like pans, kettles, cups, dishes, and more. All we had to do is pull them out of the giant black box that was here for as long as we knew, and put them to good use. The same thing applied to food, however, we would get it for as long as we performed good during trials. This acted as a stimulus for us to get out of the trials in one piece as well as help out friends in need. There was this one time when we were left without food for trials on end, shortly after the Oni (according to Yui, that is his name) appeared. Nobody knew how to deal with him and we just kept dying and dying. Even the best of us, David and Meg, that were known to perform outstandingly against any tormentor, were confused on how to outmaneuver and outsmart that hideous creature. If it was possible to die of starvation in that world, I would say with confidence that we nearly did. But, as you might have guessed, we lived to fight in another trial. After that incident, I cherished every crumb of bread I would get. 

“Next time be a bit more gentle, man. My ass hurts like a bitch right now,” I said and shot her a quick glance, while rubbing my lower back promptly. 

“Sorry…” she whispered and hid herself from my judgmental eyes. A blush started forming on her cheeks and she sheepishly placed her arm onto the nape of her neck. I couldn't help myself but feel sympathy towards the girl. 

“It’s okay, just… don’t do that again ”.

Her expression visibly relaxed, all signs of guilt vanishing from her face, and she gave me a slight nod.

After that we both returned to minding our own business and silence engulfed the campsite. Only the crackling of the fire as well as squeaking of metal hinges that were begging for oil disrupted the newborn lull. Tilting my head towards the source of the hideous squeaking sound, my smirk grew wider and a childish glint ignited in my eyes. 

“Why do we trust the most eccentric and irresponsible person with such a serious job?” I playfully scoffed and gave Ace a sly smile. 

“Are we still on that _ one time _ I forgot to put the tools into what so happened to be  _ your _ toolbox?” he asked and gave me a sour look, yet I noticed the same childish glint in his eyes. As you might have guessed, we were not actually engaged in a serious argument; we were just so used to insulting and messing with each other to the point where we didn’t even know how to express our thoughts otherwise. 

“One time? One time?! It happened on multiple occasions, multiple times!” I exclaimed and flailed my arms into different directions as I remembered the sheer disappointment and dejection I felt when I opened up my toolbox and found that it was entirely empty. 

“Guys, guys… I want this to be a civil and safe environment, okay?” Claudette intervened, her stern gaze shifting between us. 

“Instead of arguing with Ace, Cracker, you better try my Magnum Opus”, she announced, while holding up the teacup above her head with both of her hands, which gave her a comical look. I briefly wondered if she was the one acting eccentric. 

“And I’m the one to get into trouble…” I murmured before scowling at Ace for one last time and wrapped my hands around the teacup that Claudette kindly offered me. Even though Claudette was the youngest of us, 17, she was still considered the “mom” of our group; she was always the one to look out for everybody post trial and take care of anything that troubled us. This also meant she was in charge of breaking up fights between two idiots and coming up with unnecessary, yet precautionary rules considering killers and dark woods.

“Are you going to take a sip or are you just gonna stare at it?” she asked frantically, excitement burning in her eyes, as she examined me from her seat.

I nodded and enjoyed the feeling of warmth creeping onto the tips of my fingers before tasting the tea. As soon as my tongue came into contact with the liquid my nose scrunched up and my lips twisted in disgust. I squinted at Claudette.

“It tastes…It tastes...”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“It tastes disgusting,” was the only thing I said. 

“Well, yeah, what did you expect? I swear it  _ smells _ bitter, bud”. He paused and then continued, “you didn't answer the question: did it help?”.

I sighed again and looked up at the sky.

“N-not yet”.

“Okay,” he said, quickly standing up and acting as if nothing ever happened. His sudden movement made me jolt back in my seat and let out a silent gasp. My moment of weakness didn’t go unnoticed and as soon as I knew it a low chuckle reached my ears. My face morphed into a frown and I glanced up at him. To my surprise, he had his arm outstretched towards me as if offering me a hand. Before I knew it, my hand was already wrapped around his tightly and he picked me up with ease. 

“There we go,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. 

I gave him a slight nod and for the second time made my way towards freedom. This time I made it out without any interventions. Right before I was about to leave, however, I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back. 

“What’s your name? I never asked you...”.

Our eyes were met together and remained locked for what felt like eternity. He was visibly hesitating.

“It’s Frank. Frank Morrison”.

“That name suits him so much,” I thought to myself and turned my head into its initial position to hide the smile that was forming on the corner of my lips. 

“My friends call me Cracker,” I finally announced and braced myself for the incoming cocky comments and remarks. However, his response, let's say... surprised me.

“I refuse to call you anything but Freckles,” he announced. My face felt hot again, but this time I reluctantly gave into his trap: I ran my fingers over the bridge of my nose like a total loser, where the biggest cluster of freckles was located. And with that I stormed out of the trial without looking back and set my course onto the light of the campfire that flickered in the distance. 

“I’m such a fuckin’ virgin, holy  _ fuck _ ”.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah...


End file.
